


Where Do We Go?

by LogicalAlo



Category: Cursed (TV 2020), Cursed - Thomas Wheeler
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Unplanned Pregnancy, inspired by me playing too much Story of Seasons/harvest moon, other characters will appear and I will update the tag when they do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicalAlo/pseuds/LogicalAlo
Summary: Seeking shelter in a village, Lancelot and Percival pretend to be father and son. However, it isn't long until Nimue is found that all three must pretend to be an ordinary family. However, Lancelot and Nimue feel unease concerning the Red Paladins, the past, the fate of the Fey, and their blooming feelings toward one another.
Relationships: Nimue/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 232





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for taking time to give this fanfic a shot and I hope you enjoy it! As you can tell writing summaries is my weakness. I would also like to share links to sources of tracks that help inspire me to write this chapter :)  
> \- Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild OST: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q15xiaBTqqY&t=32s  
> \- BTS Black Swan Orchestral version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idwvEw1LkKc

Never had he imagined himself in the situation he was in. He never imagined himself leaving the order and fighting his supposed ‘brothers’. Father Carden would be furious once he heard what he had done. After all he has told him multiple times how Father Carden had saved him from damnation. But after that conversation, his feelings wavered over that matter. He shook his head not wanting to think about that after all he had more urgent matters. His once fierce eyes were replaced with anxiety, he didn’t need to keep running for himself but as well for the child he rescued and in turn helped him out in their escape. Lazily, he turned to his right to see the child leaning against Goliath asleep while he kept the firing going. Not that it needed help to keep itself aflame, but more for Lancelot to busy himself with his own inability to fall asleep. Percival shuffled around in his sleep as he stretched once more before finding another comfortable position. No one said sleeping outdoors was comfortable. The soothing breeze along the occasional hoots from the owls providing the music of the forest throughout the cool night. 

The hoot of the owls was replaced by the loud crowing signalling the start of the day. Well, to those who have slept as to Lancelot it was a simple continuation of his tormenting days. It would be an understatement to simply say he was tired or feeling sore as he badly attempted to fix his wounds from yesterday’s fight, stung. He was sure his sides were already covered in purple bruises and his face looking swollen from the hits and cuts. In addition, he couldn’t let his guard down, even if they traveled an admirable distance from the camp. He got up with wincing at his sore muscles and walked away from their makeshift camp to find something edible for the child. He could usually go hours without eating, but Percival was a growing child who needed some sort of substance. Speaking of said person, throughout the night he had moved from leaning on Goliath to being sprawled on the earthy ground 

He walked little away from their small camp to locate a small bush with berries. He reached out to inspect them, the tingling sensation that came with contact ignored by Lancelot. They looked safe, bearing a blue color, but to make sure he taste-tested the berry. Munching on the berry softly for a few seconds before he began picking some more as they bear no malice. Leaving the bush half empty, he wasted no time in returning back to his traveling companions.

Walking back, he was greeted by both Percival who was gently patting Goliath who had begun to eat the grass nearby. The crowing of roosters continued in the distance, they were probably near a village by the sound of it. 

“Did you sleep last night?” chirped Percival, leaving the horse off the eat and approaching Lancelot who was carrying berries on one hand. Lancelot nodded, a sufficient answer. Proceeding to give Percival the berries for the child to eat. Percival gleefully took them to eat, but hesitated looking back at the adult.

“Um- did you have any? I’m warning you before I eat them all,” Lancelot declined the indirect offer informing the child he had some. It wasn’t a complete lie, he did eat one. Berries were eaten instantly leaving blue stains from the fruits’s juice. Having nothing to wipe himself with, Percival used his own shirt. Dirt, some dried blood, and now berry stains to join. Percival thought to himself how much Nimue would have scolded him if she saw him now.

“Off to the bath with you!” her voice echoed in Percival’s head feeling nostalgic and saddened at the thought. He really did miss her and it seems like a long shot at this rate to be reunited, but at least he had Lancelot. He smiled to himself, picking up the camp carefully to erase any evidence that they made a camp here. 

Lancelot still injured, but shrugged his injuries off doing the usual of placing back the saddle and harness on Goliath. Percival approached him with his cape. Lancelot received the cape and Percival hoisted himself on the horse as Lancelot placed the cape on. If they were going to seek the village nearby, he would need his hood to cover that bald patch he had with that mark. He worked with his cape to help him partially cover the dull cross that was embedded on the overgarment. Percival was waiting for Lancelot to join him on the horse, but instead Lancelot walked alongside Goliath guiding the horse out of the outer forest sector they were in and through a grassy path before they reached the dirt road leading to the village. From the distance it looked small compared to what he had come across and prayed to God for the best. Silence filled the air with occasional moments of Percival commentating on the scenery with short responses from the hooded man.

* * *

After 30 minutes, both travelers arrived near the village’s entrance. As he thought, the village was small, priding itself in the immense fields with grazing cattle and most houses harboring small gardens with assortment of vegetation growing. It was oddly peaceful filled with giggling children running around the village's square. Percival eyes were wide taking in the scene, it’s been some time since he had been in a calm environment. 

“Look! Maybe we can get some actual food!” Percival exclaimed using both of his arms to point forward. 

“Right, berries wouldn’t really be enough,” Lancelot thought to himself before vocally agreeing with Percival. They walked closer to the village’s center that was more lively with people gathered outside a general store chatting about their day so far, a line of women waiting to fill up buckets with water, and children playing a harmless game of tag. He unknowingly pulled the front of his hood down feeling more self-conscious about his tear markings, he felt it would be a dead giveaway if word about the ‘Weeping Monk’ ever arrived this far. 

Upon the arrival of two strangers looking very worn out, a couple of children stop to look at them filled with curiosity as to who they were. Percival stood up straight to appear bigger than he was, but he was only fooling the younger kids.

“Ya new around here?” asked one of the boys with a missing tooth. Lancelot looked down to the kid who was significantly shorter than him. Probably no older than 9 years of age. 

“My father and I were attacked in our village and we fled as fast as we could,” Percival burst out saying, not missing a beat. Once again, the kid proved to be very savvy. A small lie to get them by. The children hearing what Percival had said, narrowed their eyes to inspect the travelers. Their curious looks turned sympathetic thinking what horrors the father and son had gone through. The missing-tooth kid pardoned himself and quickly ran to get a lady who was near the well gossiping with the others. Lancelot thought to himself that it was probably the child's mother as they shared some similarities in appearance. 

“How many times have I told you that it’s impolite to interrupt adults talking,” scolded the child’s mother.

“I know mom, but you have to come! They were attacked and they need help” the middle-aged mother whipped her head to look at both Lancelot and Percival. Seeing their state, she covered her mouth in shock as she now pulled her child’s hand to meet the travelers.

“Oh my, you poor boys! Oh what should I do?! Wait- Please come with me to see Lady Edna! She will know what to do!” the lady briskly walked toward the northwest of the town square leaving her bucket of water to her friends near the well ushering Lancelot and his companions to follow. Upon reaching the outside of the house next to the General Store, Lancelot helped Percival down from Goliath.

“Please wait here as I go get her. She probably is in here gambling with the other elders,” she sighed thinking about the elders’ troublesome habits. Percival opted to kick a small rock on the dirt floor while Lancelot stood stoically, listening in. Even if the villagers were helpful so far, he couldn’t let his guard down just yet. He began to look around and examined how close the village was to the mountains and how further along the northwest was another extension of the forest. 

“This better be good Lora. I was about to win,” spat an elder woman with short white hair. Lora simply rolled her eyes at the old woman’s antics. The old lady finished stepping out to see the travelers Lora was frantically telling her about; a serious young man by the looks of it and a child too busy playing with a rock. Lancelot’s eyes narrowed looking at the old woman.

“Dear boy, you look as if I were going to hurt you,” she teased lightly and smirked listening to Lancelot's response. 

“As if you could,” he slowly muttered. The one by the name Lora opened her mouth at the disrespect while Edna simply laughed causing her eyes to crinkle more. Percival too joined in the laughter imagining what Lancelot would have said earlier if he hadn’t stepped in. 

“Sorry, Lan- I mean my father is a bit of a serious man” Percival commented in-between laughs. Lancelot shot a glare at the young child. 

“Nah, don’t fret over it,” Edna replied all while carefully analyzing the travelers, her eyes soon landed on the notable tear marks on Lancelot’s face, the markings that had earned him the title ‘Weeping Monk’. He knew where she was looking and panic flooded his mind, if she knew, then he would be forced to- no she did nothing wrong, turmoil erupted in his mind. Percival sensing Lancelot’s unease, elbowed him giving him a stern look in reassurance.

However nothing happened. Edna just gave them a small wink and before Lora could say anything to question the odd moment of awkward silence, she marched toward the young man and child.

“Dear me, you children must be extremely tired. I have an empty cottage not too far from my own. If you two like, you could both stay there for the time being,” she whisked them away from the building next to the General Store’s entrance and toward the path to the empty cottage. With not much of an option both followed. It seemed to be near the outskirts of town and close to the nearby forest. Edna walked along them, kindly informing them about the village; trivial topics. 

Percival looked excited at the prospect of finally having a cozy roof over his head and eagerly converse with Edna as Lancelot lazily looked around. Soon, they all arrived in front of a semi-worn down cottage with plenty of unattended plants growing as they please.

“I apologize for the state of the home. It’s been forever since it was built and I haven’t used it much.”

Lancelot quietly allowed Goliath to roam outside the house, trusting his horse wouldn’t go far. Goliath neighed happily seeing fallen fruit from the nearby tree. Small smile appeared on Lancelot’s face seeing the antics of his trusty companion. Percival grabbed onto Lancelot’s sleeve to direct him inside the house as Edna wanted to walk them through the layout. As Edna had warned, the house was definitely covered in dust with plenty of cobwebs. But it was more than decent with two rooms and the rest was spacious.

“Percival would you be a dear and close the door. We can’t have anyone listening in,” the old lady became a bit more serious putting Lancelot on guard.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, but I’m not one to turn away those in need. I heard tales about the Ash Folk, but never thought I would meet one,” Lancelot's face tightened. She knew. 

“He is?!” yelled Percival in surprise turning to see Lancelot who began to look at the ground. Edna’s eyes soften upon the reactions.

“I thought your ‘son’ would know,” she was sharper than she presented herself to be. 

“Look,” Lancelot felt his throat go dry, “Please, just take care of the child and I’ll be on my way. He needs to be safe, we- no I did bad things and those bad things…” he felt a light tap of his chest belonging to the elder’s walking stick. Percival's own eyes were watery with his jaw clenching not liking what Lancelot was thinking. 

“And you will protect him, after all what ‘father’ leaves his son alone. I’m not asking you to go away nor am I even considering the thought of turning you both in. It seems to me you've been through more than enough. Tell me when you are ready. But we must discuss how you two will present yourself to the rest of the village. I’ll go ahead and say you are my grandson,” she instructed, pointing at Lancelot who was attentively listening with a look of confusion all over his face. Percival too was perplexed, but listening attentively with his watery eyes calming down.

“I’ll tell Lora about the whole ‘family’ thing, you can trust her with that secret,” with that assurance she moved on to help them formulate a story to who they were. 

“I once had a daughter who eloped and never came back, we will say you’re her son,” it didn’t go unnoticed the sad look that crossed her face at the mention of her daughter, “you happen to know you had a grandmother and came directly here when your village was attacked.”

A soft knock was heard, making all three turn to the door. Edna quickly made a quiet motion and opened the door to see Lora’s own children, Terric (the kid from earlier) and Simon with cleaning equipment. 

“Bless that Lora,” thought the new ‘grandmother’.

“Perfect timing! Go on and tell your mother my thanks!” Edna playfully shooed the children away and immediately gave Percival the rags and Lancelot a broom and a bucket of water. 

“This place isn’t going to clean itself and my poor old bones forbid me from hard work,” she grinned. Percival pouted at the turn of events, but no space to argue. Just before stepping out of the house, Edna turned to tell them something.

“I’ll come get you both for dinner, please stay safe,” and with that she left them. Young Percival heaved the biggest sign of relief he ever could. Lancelot's face relaxed. One moment they were running away and now on cleaning duty. Percival reached out to grab the bucket from Lancelot's hand to set it down. 

“You know, you shouldn’t be putting too much force when you are injured,” Percival deepened his voice as if mocking what an adult would sound like.

“It’s not that heavy,” and with that Lancelot removed his cape, leaving it on top of a dusty table to clean easier. Percival began to dust off the windows, however uncertainty about their situation did worry him a bit. 

“D-do you think we will be okay, Lancelot?” a worried expression on his face. Lancelot bent to Percival level, nodding.

“We will be alright. I don’t know how much we can trust that old lady, but this is the best we got. You’ll be safe here,” hearing ‘you’ didn’t please the young kid. He didn’t want Lancelot to leave him alone. Percival moved over to dust the furniture near to where Lancelot was sweeping the floor. Taking a deep breath, Percival continued their conversation.

“You didn’t really mean that about leaving me here, right?” no response. His small hands clenching forming a fist as he tried to fight the incoming tears. Maybe he was a kid that brought bad luck, his mother, father, Gawain, Nimue, and now. His vision was blurring up with tears he unknowingly shed. He hiccuped a sob dropping the rag and in return was wrapped in a hug.

“I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to say that. I promise I’m not leaving you,” Lancelot was trying to remember how he seen mothers calm their children, he wasn’t exactly experienced in comforting others. He awkwardly patted Percival’s back making the child sob harder and returning the hug.

“Ma-” a child left without a mother calling out to her. They stayed like that until the young child calmed down. Lancelot pulled away and picked up the broom preparing to clean once more, the place needed to be somewhat acceptable for them to rest in. Lancelot let out a small smile seeing Percival aggressively rubbing his face to hide any evidence that he had cried.

“I won’t tell anyone you cried, my boy,” Lancelot encouraged Percival to stop worrying over it while Percival comedically glared before breaking into a smile. Perhaps things do get better, Lancelot hoped.

* * *

Finally removing the long outer garment, Lancelot was left in his simple light gray tunic with his dark gray pants. Wiping sweat from his forehead as he looked back at the now clean floor and gone spiderwebs. Percival was almost done with dusting off the furniture and windows. Lancelot failed in an attempt to hide his chuckle, looking at the kid covered head to toe in dust. Upon hearing his friend, Percival gave an angry look telling Lancelot that he looked worse. Lancelot teasing the kid, denied the fact, and the small argument went to and fro. A small creak quickly alerted Lancelot who raised his hand toward Percival to be guard. Percival nodded and became cautious of who was on the other side of the door. The door opened quickly and it was just Edna whistling at the cleaned up place. 

“Nice job you two! I was about to invite you two come have some vegetable stew with my husband and I,” as she turned to look at the duo, gawking before laughing. 

“Ah, I guess we are a bit filthy,” muttered Lancelot, patting his blood stain and now dusty clothes. The dust went into the air and got Percival into a sneezing fit. Edna shook her head and pushed them to a room with a wooden tub. Thankfully Percival had earlier helped clean the bathroom. She instructed them how to heat the water on the fireplace located inside and to dump the water in the tub for them to use. Lancelot obediently worked and Percival followed close behind due to Lancelot’s more injured condition. Percival looked back at Edna catching her eyes, wanting to talk to her. He smoothly went toward the door’s entrance where she stood to ask about a village doctor for his ‘father’. Edna reassured the child that she should have one available for dinner. Making them hurry up and instructing them that she would be waiting for them at her home. The closet house to this cottage, between two apple trees a little down the road toward the rest of the village. 

Edna left to prepare dinner and Percival ran up to catch up to Lancelot to help prepare the bath.

* * *

“Huh, guess you really can’t remove them,” pondered Percival looking at Lancelot’s facial marks as Lancelot had recently stepped out of the bathroom after he finished his own bath. Dry blood gone from their faces with the exception of certain wounds looking fresh and the same dirty clothes. There really wasn’t much they could do as it was the only clothes they had. Perhaps he would need to buy some clothes. He should leave that for tomorrow, he turned his head in Percival's directions to respond to the child’s earlier comment.

“Nope, permanent,” Percival smiled at the response. Putting just his cape on, ignoring the outergarment with the cross, he trailed behind Percival who opened the front door for them to head over to Edna’s.

It was evening and houses were beginning to light small lamps outside to illuminate their homes for those still outside as Lancelot noted from the distance. He made small talk about the village with Percival who would often gush over the farm animals in the village. 

Eventually, just as described by Edna, a cozy looking home between two apple trees was close by with an old looking man sitting on a chair, drinking. The old man, who Lancelot assumed was Edna’s husband, called them over. 

“So great to see my grandson and great-grandson!” he shouted loudly. With a straight-face, Lancelot responded with a greeting opposed to Percival’s own loud greeting. Nearby villagers turned around to see where all the yelling was coming from. 

“Ah-” he would really need to play the part. He quickened his pace following a running Percival. 

“Hey, don’t run. Remember your injuries,” scolded Lancelot when he realized Percival’s small stagger. Percival turned back to deny until his ‘great-grandfather’ spoke.

“Listen to your father, boy. Now give your grandpa a hug.” 

The young child quizzically stopped before obeying willingly, while Lancelot bowed his head in greeting. But, he was pulled into the group hug. Catching Lancelot completely by surprise. The old man introduced himself as Edna’s husband, Gilbert. He informed them that Edna was in the kitchen serving the stew as he invited them inside. Once inside, Gilbert guided them toward the dining table. All three sat down. Gilbert discusses the economy of the village as small talk while Percival pretended to fully understand. Lancelot, however, felt at odds. It felt too surreal, their current situation. It wasn’t a while back when he was busy hunting her, fighting his so-called brothers while not knowing of Father Carden, and now… Well now he was here at a dinner table with Percival and part of a pretend family. He hadn’t been accustomed to such treatment and it had him on the edge, it was unknown to him and didn’t know how to react. 

His eyes remained trained on the wooden table. Was it alright for him to be here? Was he betraying Father Carden, but he saw it for himself that day he asked him and all he heard back was how damning his heritage was. He was sure if any of the villagers knew about him, the Weeping Monk, they would chase him away in fear.

An elbow lightly hit his side which was unfortunately bruised causing him to jolt back. There was already a warm bowl of soup in front of him reflecting Lancelot who looked at it, he turned his head to see it was Percival who elbowed him with a worried face. Lancelot felt embarrassed being caught off guard and looked at the elderly couple, looking at him with the same worried expression. 

“Ah- I’m sorry,” a phrase becoming common in Lancelot’s dictionary. Percival poked at Lancelot’s bowl to indicate he should be eating while going back to finish his portion. Edna gave him a sad smile as her husband got up to wash his empty bowl. 

“You are safe here, child. Allow Gilbert to take a look at your injuries when you finish eating. After all I told Percival, I would get someone to look at them,” she picked up her spoon to continue to elegantly eat. A small nod as he too picked up the wooden spoon and picked up some stew along a piece of cooked potato. He slowly brought it up to his dry lips and took a bite of the potato and quietly drank the stew. It felt comforting in a way along with tasting delicious. He proceeded to finish the rest. Percival snickered having never seen Lancelot eat in such an impatient manner before. The old lady got up to serve Percival seconds, giving a broad smile at her ‘grandchild and great-grandchild’. Her heart ached as she recalled how they behaved warily, questioning what they went through. Anyhow, that was up to them to tell her when the time came.

Gilbert walked back in with a plate of assorted ointments and small strips of cloth to dress the wounds. He asks who was ready to be treated first and Percival volunteered. Pushing the chair away from the table to allow Gilbert to see his head injuries. Lancelot carefully observed Gilbert, who Edna informed him was the village’s doctor. The old man gently applied ointment on Percival’s small head wounds. The young child winced at the contact to which the doctor chuckled with an apology. As the physical injuries were minimal, the doctor was done in no time moving to help Lancelot next. Wanting to give them privacy, Edna asked Percival to join her outside to eat some leftover custard from yesterday. Percival was not one to deny a sweet treat.

“Please remove your cape and shirt so I can dress your wounds,” Lancelot hesitated. He would see those wounds on his back. Those hideous wounds he self-inflicted believing it would release him from being a damned creature as Father Carden often told him. He closed his eyes ashamed, but abide by what the doctor told him to do. He flinched when he removed the shirt that caused friction on his injured skin. Gilbert reached out to grab the proper ointment he needed and soaked cloth into a bucket to clean out the wounds first. The young man winced at the contact. His sides were bruised up purple and the slashes from the swords were no better. His face wasn’t saved from the fight sporting a couple cuts and then his neck bruised from when the Trinity Guard choked him with a flail. The room was silent, but it didn't last too long as Gilbert broke the silence.

“Quite the beating you took. It’s going to take some weeks to heal and I can’t promise you no scars,”

“I’m used to it,” Lancelot mumbled.

“Edna filled me in on the situation. You guys are welcome to stay in this village as long as you please. My Edna is a good judge in character and after seeing you both, I understand. Especially, you son- this is going to hurt to hesitate to tell me if it’s too much,” Gilbert interrupted himself to inform Lancelot that the next patching of wounds would be a bit more intense. He then continued.

“We are ways from the center, but due to my profession. I’m sort of up to date and have heard about King’s shaky control along with the killing of Fey Villages,” upon hearing that Lancelot recoiled in mild fear of whatever Gilbert would say next.

“I don’t concern myself with outer conflicts,” he paused, finally done patching up his side wounds and moving on to Lancelot’s face. Lancelot fumbled with his hands wincing once in a while feeling the cool sensation of the ointment momentarily sting. 

“I don’t know if you know, but we are Feys,” his throat felt dry, he was never one to talk about personal matters. However, he believed he trusted him to a degree enough to tell him. Aside from that Edna already knew they were Feys, likely she would inform her husband.

“The child is from the Sky Folk and myself…” as much as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Being disassociated from his kind for so long, he didn’t think he deserved to call himself as such.

“The Ash folk, right? Edna told me and with your appearance I have to agree,” done applying the ointment, he placed his equipment back on the plate. Lancelot carefully put the dirty shirt back on and the grandpa looking back realized two important things: the bald spot with the marking and the tears on Lancelot’s face. They would certainly grab the attention of the village, not that he believed any of his neighbors would possess intense malicious intent to do something with such information. But with his years of experience, one could never be too careful. Taking a deep breath, the doctor began. 

“If you are not going to wear a hood son, best to fix your hair a way to cover that spot or you could remain wearing a hood in public zones to keep it hidden. Although, people could ask. Anywho, concerning your facial markings, I’m sure there will be stares, but you don’t need to respond. However, if they do…” the old man rambled on on amusing Lancelot. The multiple expressions the old man made as he kept suggestion ideas regarding Lancelot’s appearance. 

“I’ll deal with it, sir. But thank you for the suggestion,” with gratitude Lancelot slightly bowed his head toward Gilbert who then asked him to join the others outside. Approaching the entrance of the cozy house, Lancelot heard giggles belonging to Percival. The breezy evening allowed a relaxing time outside as villagers now were able to relax after a busy day. Currently Percival was playing with a dog belonging to the front neighbors of Edna and Gilbert as Edna chatted with the neighbors about it being the perfect season to grow certain flowers. Such a tranquil scene was alien to him.

“Ah you must be this old cheater’s grandson,” approached a middle aged man with already graying hair along with his wife to greet Lancelot. 

“Yes, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

“No need for formalities son, but hey Edna! Learn a thing or two from him!” taunted the wife of the man. 

“Bah, you are just mad cause I beat you in that match,” Edna sharply responded. Despite her age, she very much acted like a rebellious teen at times. Lancelot made no effort in engaging in the conversation and instead turned his attention to Percival and the dog. 

“Daisy! No girl, that’s not yours!” shrieked Percival, raising his piece of custard as high as he could, but his size was no match for Daisy. The energetic pup effortlessly jumped taking the custard piece. Percival tried to make an angry face, but once Daisy began to lick his face, it was all over. Feeling the nearby presence of Lancelot, Percival quickly grabbed him to introduce Lancelot to the pup. Within a matter of seconds, the pup had won over Lancelot as well who was gently patting her. Upon seeing that Lancelot approved of the dog. A lightbulb lit up in Percival’s head. Maybe he could finally have a pet here! A mischievous grin was all over the child’s face. He cleared his throat and began to speak loudly, that way Lancelot couldn’t say no to a dog.

“Ahem, Papa could we please have a puppy?” he pled. Percival asked his ‘father’. Lancelot turned to see Percival as he kept rubbing the dog’s tummy.

“We have Goliath at home.”

“But we can’t bring Goliath inside, nor can I play fetch with Goliath, nor can I carry him. Honestly, a dog is not the same as a horse. Please, Papa,” Percival clapped his hands together. The emphasis on the word ‘papa’ didn’t go unnoticed by Lancelot. Having a dog wouldn’t be so bad, right? They are kind of like the wolves? 

“Fine, I’ll ask around tomorrow to see where we could get one,” Percival jumped in victory, catching the attention of the older adults. Percival wasted no time in catching them up while accidentally cursing in excitement earning a glare from Lancelot at the use of crude language.

* * *

The social evening came to an end as soon nighttime arrived with the duo walking down the dirt road back home. A neigh was heard afar, Goliath. The horse acknowledged its owner’s presence and happily neighed walking next to both as they got closer to the old home. Lancelot directed Percival to enter the house as Lancelot relocated his horse to the back of the house. Another area that would need some clearing up, but for now it would suffice for Goliath. Petting his horse along with giving it an apple he picked from Edna’s house. Goliath happily ate the apple. Lancelot bid his goodnight and stepped inside to see Percival already in one of the rooms. Lancelot walk in to see Percival was already fast asleep, much deserved rest. With a lack of blanket, Lancelot decided to use his cape to cover the sleeping child. With one last look, he headed to the room next door.

The bed was significantly bigger leaving him to think this was likely the master bedroom. He removed his shoes before crawling into bed. How long has it since he was able to rest like this? He mentally began to list everything he would need to do tomorrow and aimlessly looked around the room as sleep wasn’t coming to him easily. 

It was probably around midnight, he still couldn't sleep. He blinked at the wooden ceiling with the same torment. All of a sudden, he gripped the sole bedsheet feeling a strange sensation. At first he thought it was his wounds, but it wasn’t the stinging sensation a wound produces but instead a feeling he couldn’t describe and an urge to head outside. He jolted out of bed grabbing his shoes to put on. Before exiting the house, he quickly peered at Percival’s room, he was still asleep. He grabbed his sword and stealthily walked outside. He felt a strange pull to the forest appearing more intimidating in the dark. Edna had informed him that it led to a river. He quickly made his way over to the forest entrance. 

Upon stepping inside the forest, he gently touched the tree. His hands catching an earthy green tone as detecting the environment. He was correct about heading this direction. He continued to walk a bit further until a familiar scent hit his nose causing him to pause. 

“How was it possible?” the alluring scent belonging to  _ her _ intensified. Back to his element he sped through the forest gracefully. The endless trail of green pine trees continued as he quickly ran past them. Her scent got stronger along with the trickling sound of water. He was close.

* * *

Her body laid afloat on the shallow edge of the river. Water violets outlining her body as she laid there with her eyes close and softly breathing. At moments her breathing would become erratic to once more resume in a peaceful manner, almost as if she were fighting her body to wake up. Her clothes as they were wet, clung to her body causing her to unconsciously shiver. The ruffling of nearby trees wasn’t strong enough to wake her up as she remained floating in the shallow end.

“Uh-” a small noise escaped Lancelot’s mouth as he spotted her near the assortment of plants. She looked peaceful, almost eerily dead. The infamous Weeping Monk had reunited with the Wolfblood Witch. He walked over to her location and bent down near the edge to inspect her floating body contemplating what to do. He looked over to see how her clothes clinged to her figure and what the cold did to her breast. His eyes widened and he immediately shifted his attention to the sky. The tips of his ears red, cursing himself for looking. The night sky was the same as always, illuminated by the stars and the moon. He no longer had such need to kill her, but the Fey needed her, Percival needed her. His eyes wavering down once more, before shooting up again, maybe he did too? Not in that indecent way, but in him helping her maybe he could seek forgiveness. Heavy breathing caught his attention, he turned his attention to her and noted how she attempted to move, but couldn’t. She truly was alive, he stared amazed. Mesmerized, he felt a need to get closer to her. Unconsciously he stepped into the cold water, kneeling down in the shallow end to get a closer look at her. Plants began to move around them, curiously, as if circling them. Lancelot softly reached out to move the plants around them, engaging his hand to turn green once more. With his hand still green he accidentally brushed against Nimue’s hand. At the contact, the tip of her hand went green as his instead had patterns of plants, it was electrifying and confusing. He didn’t understand and he didn’t have time as he felt her body shake with her eyes opening. He stood up to look down at Nimue who had woken up and began to cough. The sound of the water dripping from Lancelot's wet pants and lower portion of his shirt caught her attention.

Not entirely sure on what to do, he remained standing near her side frozen.

“-cough- Wha- what…” her lips were quivering, uncertain how to feel with tears streaming down her face. His own blue eyes blinked a couple of times unsure on what to do, he was afraid of what her reaction would be. He was the man who had tried to hunt her down a couple of times and contributed to the destruction of her village. He shouldn’t be here, but...

He couldn’t leave her alone, doing the only thing that came to mind. He scooped her up bridal style while water dripped from her clothes and in return wetted his already wet cloths. He really wished he had his cape to cover her up to keep her warm and well that… In between sobs, Nimue called out to people as he began to walk away from where he found her. He quietly made shushing noises in hopes she would calm down, her sobs became sniffles. 

“Nimue?” he faintly called out to her. He has heard Percival call her by that and it felt right. Her eyes clouded with tears tried to focus as they trail from his chest to his face. An agonized expression as he looked away from her, too focused in reaching Percival. He looked familiar to her, but wasn’t sure until she saw those tears. Her body stiffened in his hold growing aware of who he was. 

“You! Put me down or I swear to the Hidden,” she thrashed in his arms, but he maintained a sturdy grip on her looking absently up ahead. Frustration built up inside her as the man would say nothing. Turning her head sideways to at least see where he would be taking her, however all she would see was a blur of green as the Weeping Monk quickly ran through the forest. She noted he might’ve been injured, as at moments he would readjust his grip and stiffened, along with that he lacked his trademark hood. She felt defeated thinking back to what happened with Iris, and then her encounter with the leper mob that led her to be thrown back into the water stating ‘she was needed elsewhere’ and with Hidden telling her ‘she wasn’t done’. What else did she have to do? Her father has the sword now. She had no energy left and became increasingly aware of how cold it was. She thought to herself that perhaps it would’ve been better for her to remain unfound and asleep. Another gust of wind caused her to snuggle closer to the Weeping Monk. Her eyelids are becoming heavy and she has no will to keep awake. 

Lancelot took a furtive glance at the Wolfblood Witch when he stopped feeling her move so much, to see her struggling to remain awake. This wasn’t a good sign, taking in her wet and cold condition into consideration. Thankfully, they weren’t far from the house. He quickened his pace and wasn’t surprised to see little Percival awake with Goliath next to him outside the house. 

Lancelot’s breathing became more labored putting a bit more force into reaching the house under his condition as his side began to ache once more. Once near, he wasted no time ordering Percival to start a fire, it was the quickest way to warm someone up.

“Nimue!” gasped Percival surprised, he wanted to run over to see her, but if Lancelot ordered the fire it was likely very important. Goliath guided the child to the back of the house where old wood from the home’s construction remained along with the equipment to start a fire in the home’s designated fire place. Ecstatic he was able to reunite with Nimue, he hurried back inside the house to begin the fire as he had been taught back in the village. Percival was preoccupied with the given task as Lancelot had fetched his cape to cover up Nimue. Lancelot hoped it was somewhat warm enough for her body and brought her closer where Percival was working. He positioned her near the ground and he joined her on the ground to help support her close to the fire. With her body leaning against his, she used the little strength she had to cuddle closer to him still shivering. After the third attempt of rubbing the flint together a fire was born with small sparks shedding. With proper technique the small flame grew. Percival heaved a deep breath and turned to Lancelot who had sat down supporting Nimue. 

“Nimue? Nimue,” Percival’s lips trembled realizing that Nimue was here now. He was fighting real hard not to cry and his strain expression told Lancelot everything. Lancelot stretched his free right arm ushering Percival to come over. Instinctively, Percival walked over to the huddled pair and lowered himself to their level on the ground. Lancelot observed the way the child looked at the woman like a lost cub finally reunited with its mother. 

“No one else is here. You can cry,” and so did Percival, albeit quieter than he had earlier not wanting to disturb a resting Nimue. The fire kept flickering accompanied by the muffled tears.

“Squirrel,” her sweet voice muttered the name of the child opening her eyes to look at the child who was on Lancelot’s right side. She gave him a comforting smile before she closed her eyes to rest. It was safe now that she was gone from the cold environment and warming up via fire. Percival eye’s widened and smiled in his tear covered face thrilled knowing that she remembered him and that she was okay. Percival having woken up from his sleep, still felt sleepy and drowsy. After much battle to keep awake, he fell asleep on Lancelot’s right side while Nimue on the left. Lancelot felt clueless looking at both people on his sides, unsure of what to do. He was sure such posture was entirely uncomfortable. His eyes remained focused on the fire in front of them. His arms were beginning to feel a bit sore, but he couldn’t just remove them. He leaned back to the wall for extra support. Who knows how much he will regret it in the morning. He shifted his eyes to the girl who was peacefully asleep and how her chest would lightly rise and fall at every breath she took. Finally looking at peace opposed to her anguish expressions from earlier. His thoughts then drifted to how he would explain her existence to Edna and Gilbert.

“Hello, this is the girl I was hunting,” he rejected saying like that and thought deeply in other ways he could. His thoughts became mush as he kept staring intently at the fire in front. The flames danced graciously with little sparks falling on the fire’s side, lulling him to sleep. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Together? Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit rewrote this three times and still not too happy about it, so I'm sorry if characters sound off. I also want to apologize for it being significantly shorter than the previous chapter. In addition, I took some creative freedom here to explore what ability Ash Folk could have. Bit more Nimue focused. Thank you again for the support and hope that this chapter is somewhat okay :)
> 
> Oh my Twitter is SnoozingSuga26 by the way, if anyone would like to talk about Nimulot or anything else

Eyelids slowly opened while flickering back shut in an attempt to adjust to the room’s light. The strength of the intense sun ray that peered through a small hole in the roof, shined in Nimue’s direction, making it a challenge to open her eyes. With eyes half open she scanned the room she was in, only bothering to look in front of her before closing her eyes once more. Opting to keep them close as she used the time to think to herself. Perhaps it would be smart to first assess where she was, but at this moment she could care less after all she has been through these past days, her taking a few minutes to think wouldn’t hurt anyone. She grimaced.

“Oh Father, Morgana, poor Pym...” thinking of all those in her life she cared about with the only result in making her feel worse. Of course, she would be needed, she was appointed as the Fey Queen. The requirement that came with such a title was the amount of faith and dependence other Feys and even humans dissatisfied with King Uther along with the evil torment King Cumber brought, then the church. She wanted to believe they would be just fine without her temporarily, but she didn’t know how things were when she went missing from her fall. She only hoped Arthur could maintain the momentum to lead correctly alongside their allies. She pushed her arms out of the gray cloak to rest them on her head. She felt stupidly naive at letting her guard down around Iris. She dismissed Iris from her mind, thinking it would be better to focus on recent events. Doing so would help her decide her next course of action.

Her mind focused on her memories of recent events from Iris' own betrayal to be greeted by the leper mob when she was washed up near their location at the Minotaur mountains. She remembered how they attempted to help her by pulling out the stumps and remains of the arrows, but had limited access to medication. In other words, a poor healing job, but it was something. She remembered once they learned that she was the Fey Queen, she was thrown back into the water with one of them telling her ‘she was needed elsewhere’. At the battlefield, she assumed, not back in the water she thought back to her feelings at that moment. She groaned a bit thinking to herself in frustration harshly scratching her head. Her own thoughts were becoming so noisy that she could barely stand to hear herself think.

A groan was heard on her right causing Nimue to pause. Analyzing the noise it sounded like a man in pain, in deep pain. Her exact memories from last night were a bit hazy, but she was slowly able to remember notable things like being saved. It was a man and he icy blue eyes, she recalls feeling both scared and angry because-

That’s right it was him, the Gray Monk. Forgoing her fake sleep, she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the man. She finally would get a clear view of the face of the haunting monk who killed so many of her kind. The dark thought of killing him crossed her mind as Fingers of Airimid began to appear on her face. She positioned her hand into a fist in an attempt to ready herself to attack. Still on the floor she moved just enough to see his whole face. To her surprise he looked about her age, younger than she had anticipated with those dark tears tattooed on his face. His face was tense with agony by how he made small noises in pain. He was either having some sort of nightmare or injured. Nimue felt a pang of sympathy looking at him and without knowing her own facial markings blended back to her normal skin. She returned back to her position, however unlike how she was positioned when she woke up, was not leaning on him this time. She had a strange urge to soothe him. She shook her head at the thought, how could she think of such a thing when he was the same Weeping Monk that had killed other Feys and assisted in the killing of her village. The Hidden was sure to punish him for it, but somehow she couldn’t bear at the thought of it. She sneaked a glance at him before resting her head on her arms with her knees pulled up. The gray cloak was now loose on her and she got out of her position to fix it, but stopped upon hearing bizarrely familiar and obnoxious mumbling . Oh how she hated when Squirrel did that at times. 

“Wait, Squirrel?!” she shouted in her mind quickly, whipping her head to her side and standing up to look over the Weeping Monk. There he was, little and too energetic, Squirrel. Sprawled over the ground with an odd smile in his sleep as he muttered the names of food. 

A soft smile crept on Nimue’s face momentarily looking at the tranquility the child brought, but her own feeling regarding the monk didn’t waiver. If she just sneaked away with Squirrel, then she wouldn’t need to confront him. Although, why he was with Squirrel and Squirrel appeared relaxed near the Monk inspired questions. Nimue eyed the Monk once more being drawn to him for unknown reasons. Her blue eyes stopped to inspect his ink-like tears, curious on how he obtained them and temptation to touch them. She lifted her left arm, slowly moving her hand toward his face.

“ _ With water or fire _ ,” why was her own mind echoing what she said some time back? However, she didn’t have time to process upon hearing her mother’s own voice “  _ Then teach them. Help them understand, Because one day you’ll have to help lead them. _ Together.”

Why did her mother’s voice echo in her mind now? She closed her eyes to fight back the tears threatening to fall. She has said the thing about water and fire when the Hidden had infused its energy to aid her, but she never pondered about it. She looked toward the Weeping Monk instinctively upon hearing her mom’s voice say ‘together’. What did she mean by that? No, she had gone off topic again, she needed to escape and she first needed to connect with the hidden in order to send her father a message and if she were lucky, help guide her back.

She let out of breath, concentrating. The connection was weak, opposed to how usually strong it was. Within a matter of seconds, the connection sizzled out and she was greeted by nothing. She pursed her lips in distaste with what was happening, but decided to try again hoping it was a simple fluke.

1,2…3

A void everytime she tried. After all it put her through; the scratched on her back, the relentless bullying, and more. It took another try before Nimue let out a curse.

“Damn it,” she let out a frustrated cry as she sunk to the ground. The bloody Hidden and it’s ways. Didn’t it see that she needed them to get back, to save the Feys. It was her duty wasn’t it?! Too preoccupied to detect the boys had been woken up by her. 

Lancelot had been the first to awake at the angered whimpers coming from the Wolf-Blood Witch that culminated in her crying out. He watched attentively as she tried multiple times to communicate with what he assumed was the demonism that Father Carden and other monks gossiped about. He then noted Percival was up as well and wasted no time in hugging Nimue, not fully understanding the scene. He didn’t expect the kid who just woke up to understand.

“Nimue!” Percival cheered hugging Nimue tightly. He was thrilled last night was not an odd dream and that Lancelot in fact did find Nimue last night. After all, the dream of him working to make a fire was unlikely because who dreams of doing any sort of labor, concluded Percival. Nimue was caught off guard looking at Squirrel. In reaction she let out a gasp before softly petting his light brown hair followed by her lowering to his level to give him a tight hug. Lancelot averted his gaze feeling like he was intruding. Beside once she looked at him, she was sure he was done for. During his time hunting her, at every stop she had she left behind examples of her immense power. Especially with him injured he didn’t know what was in store. Perhaps, he could hope she would spare him, if he offered to be her shadow. It was the life he was accustomed to. Lancelot’s thought back to what the Fey, Gawain, had said about him joining their side. Could he? No, not even he could accept himself; what made him think she would. He was hopeless.

“Oh my sweet little Squirrel. Thank the Hidden you are alive.”

“Nimueeee, you’re crushing me,” huffed Percival. Nimue laughed and loosen her hold. Still thinking Lancelot was asleep, she whispered to Percival, “let’s leave.” To her surprise Percival shook his head in disagreement.

“No, not without Lancelot.” 

“Lancelot?” she repeated back, was it his name? She stood up and looked at the Weeping Monk, so his name was Lancelot. 

He flinched as she called out to him using his real name. Warm blue eyes met his own icy blue eyes. They stared without saying a word until Percival intervened.

“Nimue, he saved me and has been taking care of me. He did not only fight Red Paladins, but also the Trinity Guard to save me. He is severely injured because of that and Gilbert just started treating him,” Nimue raised an eyebrow upon the new information. Was he truly the same man she had seen back in the Village and from afar. But she had been betrayed enough, she marched to tower over him to ask him one thing. 

“Why?”

Lancelot blinked a couple of times at her question, not sure how to answer. He should stand up. With some struggle he rose and now he was towering over Nimue who maintained a steady gaze at him. 

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. He lowered his gaze to look at the floor. Her facade dropped and instead was replaced with sympathy at how his eyes wavered. He looked lost, like he had given up. 

“Then tell me why I should let you live.” Percival’s eyes widened at what Nimue had said and was about to protest in fear, but Lancelot responded. In a barely audible voice he said “let me fight in your shadow.”

“Why?” again the same one worded question, but now he knew.

“To repent for what I did. I don’t seek forgiveness from anyone, but my own,” Lancelot now looked at Nimue who was confused on what he meant. Percival understanding smiled at Lancelot’s new resolution. 

“The Ash Folk,” Lancelot added and Nimue opened her mouth in surprise. She had thought that they had gone extinct, but here before her one stood. But then why did he commit the atrocities he did alongside the Red Paladins? It didn’t make sense, unless he was lying. Lancelot sensing that she might not believe him did the unthinkable. He would prove his heritage. He was fearful, but he desperately wanted to prove himself.

He gulped, riddled in anxiety as he hadn’t done it over years and much of his own childhood before being taken in by Father Carden were blurred fragments. He couldn’t even remember his mother's face, as such thought a black, oil-looking substance began to drip down his eyes. 

Nimue stared amazed without finding the proper words while Percival blinked in shock. Unlike Nimue who had heard of Ash Folk, Percival was informed just yesterday when Grandma Edna was able to deduct correctly what Fey Clan Lancelot belonged to.

“You are crying,” Nimue stated the obvious, mildly enchanted by the process.

“ _ Incendemus _ ,” Lancelot took a deep breath, it’s been a while and he was out of practice. His ashy tears continued to drip as his own trembling hand reached to touch his facial marking softly. The ashy tears coated in oil began to spark akin to when hitting flints together to start a fire. Lancelot muttered a soft prayer, hoping he could do it. Like that a small flame appeared on the palm of his hand. His eyes widen in surprise along with the tingling sensation on his face coming from the dripping tears. He looked beautifly, haunting thought Nimue being drawn to him even more. She looked up from the flame in his hand to his eyes. Despite his stoic expression, his eyes displayed unease.

Lancelot let out a small gasp and began to breath heavily looking into the flame in disbelief that he pulled it off, so many years being told it was wrong that doing it now seemed wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. However such negative thoughts feed the flame that increased in size steadily and his tears still dripped. 

“Lancelot?” Percival asked when he saw the flame grow, was Lancelot trying to show off how large he can make the flame go or? Percival saw a gray flash with long brown hair quickly walk up to Lancelot, Nimue! The young boy tensed, semi-understanding what was going on. He looked at Lancelot who seemed to be fine at first glance, until he spotted Lancelot’s own hands trembling with the fire, was that what made Nimue react? 

“Squirrel, remember that time Pym needed help easing her stress, what herb did we use?” Percival glanced at Nimue and pondered her question. Remembering how she would teach him his daily lessons especially memorizing what herbs did what. Thinking a bit more and referencing the incident with Pym and observing Lancelot’s shaking hand, he understood.

“Lavender! I think I saw some yesterday!” Nimue smiled proudly knowing Squirrel remembered and watched him leave the cottage while leaving the door open. He suddenly remembered the herb lessons he took with Nimue and recalled where he saw the herb they needed yesterday. He ran as fast as he could toward Daisy’s owners, he remembered seeing Lavender growing in their front yard. 

* * *

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” croaked Lancelot, his hand shaking more erratically. The flame would weaken and burst big in a repetitive manner reflecting it’s summoner’s feelings. Nimue, who had run up to him, stood close contemplating what to do.

“ _ You said you ‘only juggle fire’ _ ,” teased a barely audible voice, the Hidden. Nimue fought the urge to fight the Hidden there and now when it finally showed up, but her priority was to help Lancelot above anything else. She reached out to his hand with the flame circling it without touching the fire. He quickly looked at her with his teary eyes almost begging her to make it stop. Nimue felt a pit in her stomach, her own eyes watering at the realization of his fear. He looked nervous at the start, but she assumed at the time it was because it was fire which itself was a dangerous element. But there was more to it. He had hunted Feys and fought alongside the church under Father Carden’s order. That bastard, her lips curled. Has Lancelot been conditioned to hate his kind? To hate himself? She took a hold of his trembling hands from below to avoid the fire and began to softly shush him in order to calm him down.

“I can’t,” he whispered in between his silent tears. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated without stopping and Nimue couldn’t bear any longer seeing him in such a state. She tightened her hold on his hand and together they clasped their hands. Nimue looked to see smoke coming out of his hands as she maintained her hands holding his to keep them shut. It was risky at the chance of being burnt, however a user’s own power couldn’t harm them.

Upon doing so the leaf marking appeared on her face and challenged his own markings. Lancelot anxiously looked at a concentrating Nimue holding on to his hands tightly. The flame burned at first followed by it dying through the indication of smoke. Nimue’s own touch provides a cooling effect to his own burning hands. His eyes widened, noting their hands looked the same they had last night when in contact. He heard Nimue make a noise too as she started both puzzled and impressed at their hands. Her own hands turned green in exchange for his own sporting a leaf tattoo. Almost as if one of their respective abilities interchanged. Soon enough the smoke dwindled down along with his tears. In labored breaths and left with fresh oil on top of the new ash tears, he shifted his attention to his savior who still held on to his hands. She was a mess herself with her hair still crazy from the recent days and frantic look in her eyes, but to him, she looked like an angel.

“It’s okay, you are okay,” she whispered to help comfort him and to a degree her as well. They simultaneously unfolded their hands to see the once flame into ash, however a small stem belonging to an Edelweiss flower, courage and devotion, emerged. Did they do that upon contact with both their abilities? Nimue scooped the plant from Lancelot and placed it on an empty bucket to inspect it carefully later.

“Whoa!” exclaimed a childish voice. Percival had come back with lavender and a small bowl he had asked Edna for and not really explaining why. 

“Squirrel, is there a bed?” Squirrel guided Nimue who had one of Lancelot’s arms over her shoulders to help support him to the room. She then helped Lancelot lie down. He had calmed down significantly thanks to Nimue, but he needed to rest as such ability usage must’ve drained his energy along with it hurting his injuries. 

She had asked Squirrel to look over Lancelot as she got to work with the herbs. She grabbed the bowl Squirrel set on the table and quickly headed back to the room to collect some of Lancelot’s tears that still didn’t dry up. Collecting the tears made up of oil due to activation of the Fey ability, she mushed the oil and lavender leaves together in order to extract and strengthen the lavender’s aroma. Once done she held up the bowl close to Lancelot's nose.

His own breathing matched a normal pace meaning it was working. Nimue let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off her forehead. 

“Did he fall asleep?” asked Squirrel. Nimue nodded before sitting on the bed’s edge.

“To think here we are here with the Weeping Monk. He did bad things, Squirrel. Yet in some odd way, I can’t imagine leaving here without him,” Nimue revealed her thoughts to her younger friend. 

“I don’t want to leave him without Nimue. He promised me yesterday, he would protect me. Plus, I can't leave my new father,” Squirrel joked and giggled at Nimue’s reaction.

“Father?” She threw Percival a quizzical look puzzled by Squirrel calling Lancelot father. Percival made a face thinking to himself and decided he should catch Nimue up to everything that has happened and the village.

* * *

“That’s what you meant,” Nimue said, understanding more why Percival is so adamant about defending Lancelot. She looked over at the resting young man with a strong urge she couldn’t explain to remain at his side. 

“With water or fire,” she repeated out loud. Was he perhaps the fire? If only the Hidden didn’t speak in such riddles.

“Lancelot promised he would train me too,” Percival muttered.

“Did he?” teased Nimue.

Percival continued to inform Nimue about the villagers they currently had met while Nimue mind wandered elsewhere, but strangely back to Lancelot. He would definitely be a strong ally and she wanted him around. However, how would she break it down for the rest to make them understand. For now, she would apologize to him when he woke up from his nap, she felt like she pushed him into using his powers. Though, she could also offer to train him. The basics of Fey abilities were sorta alike. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, alarming both Squirrel and Nimue who quickly ran over to see who it was. Nimue saw it was an old lady with short white hair with a walking stick. She tried to go through her mind the villagers Squirrel told her about in hopes of identifying her, but the old lady asked her a question. 

“Oh, who might you be?” the old lady asked in a kind voice. Before Percival could introduce his friend who was more like a naggy mom at times, Nimue beat him to it in a panic.

“Lancelot’s wife,” she blurted out. She then quickly clasped her hands on her mouth realizing what she said. Percival cocked his head listening at what Nimue said. The creaking of the wooden door frame caught everyone's attention to see Lancelot back up and wincing at his unhealed wounds. He saw Nimue with a flustered and panicked look while Squirrel looked flabbergasted. Then their was Edna grinning, but it felt mischievous.

“Lancelot, why didn’t you tell me you had a wife?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention, that I won't have a fixed updating schedule but the max time frame for a chapter upload is 2 weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much! I took some creative freedom with certain things as I'm not sure on how homes were structure during the Arthurian legends (according to Google it takes place around the 6th century). It was fun looking up certain dishes that would been around that time and other fun stuff like names that were used around the medieval era (5th to 15th century).


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